between you and i (there is an ocean)
by yangires
Summary: Kaneki Ken does not fall for Kamishiro Rize. Instead, he falls for Kirishima Touka. Life does not always have to become a tragedy. —AU—
1. ( sordid )

author's note;  
><span>09/26/14 — Things I told myself I wouldn't do: Write Tokyo Ghoul fanfiction.

Things I have clearly done anyway: Write Tokyo Ghoul fanfiction.

I blame the soul crushing properties of chapter 143.

Either way, here we go! This will be a series of drabbles, one-sentence fics and one-shots, all placed within the same AUverse where Kaneki's life is decidedly less tragic. That is, an AU where TouKen will eventually be a thing and Kenki doesn't develop a crush on Kamishiro "Literal Man-Eater" Rize. If this idea has been done before... then I apologize and hope this spin will be sufficiently different.

Enjoy!

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><p>Like all good love stories, it begins in a quaint little coffee shop in an equally as quaint little corner of Tokyo.<p>

(It's more of a sordid love affair, really.)

* * *

><p>between you and i<br>(there is an ocean)

* * *

><p>(<em> sordid <em>)

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><p>When she sees him for the first time, there are three things that immediately cross her mind.<p>

_One_, that he's small and weak and perfect as an appetizer for one of their less benevolent regulars.

_Two_, that he's been staring at her with the same annoying look on his face for way too long.

And _three_—oh.

She turns on her heel and tries, with a new found sense of disgust, to pass on her duties to one of her co-workers. She does not have the time to deal with a human and his crush. She does not have the time to put on a kind face, her smile bright and warm, as he unintelligibly stutters through his order while his blond friend encourages him on. She does not have time for any of these things. But she has to make time for them, anyway.

The old manager has always had a sick sense of humor.

* * *

><p>"Excuse me!" his friend says. Loudly. Annoyingly. He is truly an exercise in keeping a straight face. Much more so than other humans.<p>

"Yes?" she replies with practiced ease, reaching for her notepad in one smooth movement. She doesn't even have her pen out properly before he starts blabbing on, shooting an order at her and asking his friend (C_rush Boy_, her mind oh-so-helpfully supplies) whether he wants something as well. To her relief, he doesn't.

Said relief is then quickly replaced by complete horror, when he then decides to ask: "Oh! What might your name be?"

Breathe in. Breathe out. The manager would not be very pleased with her if she scared off their human customers.

"Kirishima... Touka," she says. It feels a little bit like forcing concrete through her teeth.

"Kirishima-san, huh? How cute!" he says, shamelessly. Then, he turns towards Crush Boy. "What do you think, eh, Kaneki?"

Crush Boy (_Kaneki_) buries his face in his hands with something of a strangled yelp. She kind of wishes she could do the same.

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><p>Well. The next time he comes, it might not even be during her shift.<p>

(It is.

And so is the next time.

And the one after that.

And so forth.)

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><p><em>But<em>, she decides, _he will never be anything more than a human with a crush_.

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She's horrendously wrong.


	2. ( to this day )

author's note;  
>0927/14 — Oh, boy. I wasn't expecting so much support, so I'm even more excited now to continue with this story. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed/kudo'd/favorited/followed/what-have-you'd this story so far!

This is a pretty brief chapter, mostly so I can indicate the passing of time without going into much detail. The themes used are from the Gamma set at 1sentence on LiveJournal. Expect the third chapter to be up somewhere between later today or Monday, depending on how inspired I get.

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><p><strong>#01 - Ring<br>**To this day, her parents's wedding rings still remain in her care—but only as a constant reminder of things (relationships and experiences and times long gone that) she will never be able to have.

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><p>( <em>to this day<em> )

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><p><strong>#02 - Hero<br>**"_Touka_-chan," Yoriko says, waving a hand in front of her face and snapping her out of her thoughts, before continuing on with: "Now isn't the time to daydream, we have to pick a heroic tale for our Classic Literature class!"

**#03 - Memory  
><strong>Sometimes (more than sometimes), she wishes she could wipe certain events from her memory completely.

**#04 - Box  
><strong>Whenever she sees a human carrying something that resembles of _those_, she finds herself quickening her pace until they are completely out of sight.

**#05 - Run  
><strong>"Tch—I can't believe that old manager is making me run out to buy more coffee."

**#06 - Hurricane  
><strong>Occasionally, she's heard humans comparing Ghouls to forces of nature not unlike hurricanes; she thinks the notion is absolutely ridiculous.

**#07 - Wings  
><strong>The investigators call her Kagune an Ukaku (a _shimmering feather_), but the name makes it sound more beautiful than the weapon it really is.

**#08 - Cold  
><strong>When the early autumn cold hits her, she realizes it's been a couple of days since she last saw that human with the crush — and then she swiftly squashes any type of feeling or emotion before it can root itself within her heart.

**#09 - Red  
><strong>When she stumbles upon a pool of red and the unmistakable sound of someone having a feast deep within the alleyway, she keeps on walking; there is no need for her to intervene when there is no situation that requires it.

**#10 - Drink  
><strong>A full week goes by, and his friend shows up at Anteiku once again, specifically asking for a drink with (quote and unquote) her cute latte art; there is no mention of his usual companion and she begins to wonder if one of their less benevolent regulars really did decide to use him as an appetizer.

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**#11 - Midnight  
><strong>At midnight, she turns on the TV and catches a news report about an accident involving metal beams.


	3. ( continue )

author's note;  
>0928/14 — Third chapter! I'm trying to move this along at an acceptable pace... though now I've begun to wonder whether I'm being too slow. Thoughts on this?

* * *

><p>That night, she catches a rebroadcast of today's (<em>yesterday's<em>) news.

_On the evening of the 3rd_, the reporter says, _a couple was caught in an accident when several metal beams fell from atop a nearby construction site. The young woman was confirmed dead upon arrival to the hospital, while the young man passed away hours later. The authorities will continue to look into the circumstances surrounding this event_.

By the time they get to the next segment, she's already turned off the TV and headed straight to bed.

* * *

><p>( <em>continue<em> )

* * *

><p>When Kamishiro Rize stops coming to Anteiku and subsequently disappears from the 20th Ward, there's a collective sigh of relief all around.<p>

When Kaneki Ken reappears after a week long absence, looking no less healthy and acting no less annoying, Touka briefly considers spitting on his order while nobody is looking.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Kirishima-san!" his friend calls out to her, waving his arm at her as she approaches their table with two lattes in hand. "Did you know this hopeless guy forgot to do our assigned reading for Asian History because—"<p>

"—Hide!" Crush Boy interrupts, staring at his companion with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. She does not have to hear the end of that sentence. Not really.

"_Anyway_," his friend continues, not in the least deterred by that outburst. "He spent a week cooped up in his place, reading the whole book. It was only one chapter! Can you believe this guy?"

"Haa... Is that right?" she asks, her voice saccharine sweet. "He should focus more on his studies, shouldn't he?"

Her words leave a foul taste in her mouth, but they seem to do the trick as she sets their orders down on the table. A moment later, Crush Boy begins to nurse the drink between his hands.

"Yeah, I know. That's just what I was telling him," his friend responds, gesticulating wildly. "Kaneki, my man, you're not going to get anywhere if you don't hit the books—like me!"

"H— Hide," crush boy says, lowering the cup and furrowing his brows. "No matter how you look at it, that's a lie."

"Oho! But it's what I _thought _about saying."

"That... doesn't really change a thing."

By the time she begins to tune them out in order to attend her other tables, the conversation has disintegrated into a childish and repetitive _does too_ and _does not_ argument.

When she swings by again, Crush Boy looks just as consternated as she left him—though now his friend seems to be more preoccupied with getting up from his chair while wiggling his eyebrows. She thinks she hears him whisper, all too conspicuously: "_It'll be a test of courage!_"

Mentally, she gives herself a pat in the back for being able to keep a smile on her face.

"See ya, Kirishima-san!" he says as he passes her by on his way towards the exit. "Kaneki here will be picking up the check."

She pretends not to see the rapid winking he does on his way out. Instead, she focuses on the remaining half of the atrocious duo.

"I'll just..." she begins, staring at his trembling hands and hearing every single breath he forces in and out through his nostrils. "I'll bring you the check, if that'll be all."

And she expects it to be. She hopes it will be. Keeping up this charade seriously tires her out.

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It's not.

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(Not by a long shot.)

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"W-Wait—um... Kirishima-san."

She stops after taking only two steps away from his table, and tilts her head slightly in order to look at him. "Yes...?"

"Are you... I mean... Do you..." he starts, vacillating between tones and crawling through each syllable with painful hesitance. She wishes, almost desperately, that he would get to the point so she could say _no_. Then, after a moment of awkward silence, he brings a hand up to his chin and gives her a small and shaky chuckle. "Actually... that won't be all. Could I have a cappuccino to go, please?"

She finds herself hesitating this time.

"Oh. Of course."

He really _does_ piss her off.

* * *

><p>And even with Rize gone, she still left quite a mess for them to clean up. How very like her.<p> 


	4. ( shift )

author's note;  
>0930/14 — Surprise update! I had originally planned for this chapter to be way longer, but I decided to split it in several parts in order to sneak in an update today. Unfortunately, this also means there will be no Kaneki in this chapter. Bummer.

* * *

><p>It was a perfectly lovely afternoon.<p>

Or, it would have been, if not for—

"Ehh... But are you sure you're alright, Touka-chan?" Yoriko asks for what may very well be the nth time this day. Her concern would be extremely touching, if not for the fact that Touka feels just about ready to slam her bag on the ground and scream at the situation that was causing said concern in the first place.

"I'm _fine_, Yoriko," she responds, with a little more force than is strictly necessary. Adjusting the strap of her bag with her uninjured hand, she rolls her eyes at her best friend's antics. "More importantly, isn't your house the other way?"

Thoroughly unconvinced, Yoriko huffs and puffs and fixes her a look as stern as that of a newborn puppy. "But Touka-chan, you're—_ow_!"

Well. Flicking Yoriko on the forehead never quite gets old. Neither does watching her rub her forehead, trying to look mad and failing fantastically.

"I said I'm fine. Jeez..." she sighs, rubbing the back of her neck in an attempt to get rid of the tension building up between her shoulders. "Head on home. You know I have to work today."

And though Yoriko looks no more ready to leave her than she did half a minute ago, there's a small shift in her body language.

"...Alright," she says, after a brief pause. "But I want you to call me as soon as you get home tonight. And—you have to promise that tomorrow, you'll eat the lunch I bring you! A growing girl like you needs more than jam sandwiches to heal, Touka-chan!"

Though her stomach churns uncomfortably at the thought of eating Yoriko's much too refined cooking, Touka finds herself smiling and waving goodbye at her friend as she retreats. "Yeah, yeah... Just go!"

And then, Yoriko is gone.

It's only then, when her friend is out of sight and there is nothing for her to focus on but the throbbing of her limbs and the haphazardly arranged plasters around her right arm, left shoulder and legs, that she allows her posture to unravel. Not even a week since Rize's disappearance, and territorial disputes have already gotten way out of hand.

That damned Nishiki.

* * *

><p>( <em>shift<em> )

* * *

><p>Of course, not everything that afternoon has to be unpleasant.<p>

(But everything has the potential to be unpleasant.)

When she's seconds away from Anteiku, limbs aching and pride slightly wounded, she happens upon some old acquaintances.

"Ah—Ryoko-san?"

Almost simultaneously, both mother and daughter ghoul turn around to face her. Once recognition settles in, Hinami loosens her hold on her mother's skirt in other to greet her with a smile. If only she weren't so intimidated by the pedestrians making their way up and down town around them, however.

"Oh, Touka-chan. Hello," Ryouko says, her hand moving to touch her bottom lip. "Are you coming in to work today?"

"Yeah," she responds, moving past them and towards Anteiku's front doors. One, two, _three_ long steps—and she's holding the door open for both of them. "I am. Even though I have exams coming up, that manager is still making me work."

Somehow, she makes the words _that manager_ sound like an elaborate curse. She feels almost proud of herself.

"So that's how it is... Did he know you have exams to study for?" Ryouko replies, a sympathetic smile on her lips as she ushers Hinami inside with her. She thinks she sees her mouth a small _thank you_ as they successfully enter the shop and she closes the door behind her.

"He did. But," she begins, "we're a bit short on staff, so it can't really be helped. The others have to manage the storefront."

It almost makes her wish for new co-workers.

Except the thought of having to train them makes that wish evaporate instantaneously.

"I see," Ryouko tells her, after a beat. "Well... I think it's good you're able to do something to help, Touka-chan. If only I..."

Her statement does not end there. But she does not finish it. The gap it leaves in their conversation is both uncomfortable and stifling.

So she breaks it. Or tries to.

"The manager should be waiting for you on the second floor," she says, her tone soft and pleasant despite the lump that has suddenly formed smack dab in the middle of her throat. "You can go on up."

And when they do, all she can think of is that they don't deserve the lifestyle of a ghoul.

* * *

><p>And<br>days later,  
>something in the stability of the 20th Ward<br>changed for good.


	5. ( no further )

author's note;  
><span>10/01/14 — Someone please find Kaneki Ken. He's been human-zoned for the past two chapters.  
><span>

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><p>"Hinami."<p>

It's a tired and lonely voice.

"Please, come out."

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"No! I want to see Father!"

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"Hinami, please... I miss him, too, but..."

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There's no further response from the other side of the door.

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><p>( <em>no further<em> )

* * *

><p>Of course, when Yoshimura asked her to come in to work it wasn't only because he needed an additional waitress.<p>

It was because they were running low on meat.

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><p>The car ride is comfortably silent. No words are exchanged between the two of them. Only brief glances full of mutual understanding—which is perfectly fine by her. Queasiness and motion sickness aside, it gives her the chance to review part of her Classic Literature exam. And even if nothing about this fits with her ideal studying environment, she'll take it.<p>

The silence continues even after they've gotten to the location. They take a quick look inside the vehicle parked near the railing, a cursory glance down the cliffside, and then they're making their way down in order to get to business. She knows what to do and so does Yomo. There is no need for awkward explanations or instructions. She takes the bag. He takes the equipment. They supply Anteiku with meat. That's all.

So it's a bit of a surprise when the silence is eventually broken by Yomo himself.

"Touka. Don't react negatively to this," he says with such spontaneity that her body reacts before her mind can properly process the fact he spoke at all. "But the Doves have come to the 20th Ward."

"_What_?" she hears her mouth say, brain not quite up to speed with the rest of her being. Reason then kicks in and she's gritting her teeth and jumping to conclusions. "Shit. That fucking Rize, she—"

"It wasn't Rize that enticed them to come here."

That stops her.

It feels a little like having a bucket of cold water tipped over her head.

"Then," she begins, licking her lips and furrowing her brows. She tries to ignore the way her heart was now slamming itself against her chest, mind racing back and forth between possible alternatives. "Who made those bastards come here? Did someone sell us out?"

"No," Yomo says, "They're after Fueguchi-san."

For a moment, it feels like everything stops.

Then the sickly sweet smell of blood invades her senses once again. The piece of human meat in her hand feels colder to the touch than it really is. The silence that ensues almost deafens her.

She thinks someone must have punched her in the abdomen—but that wasn't possible. There was nobody around besides Yomo.

Touka takes a deep breath and tries to steady her voice. "Why?"

She receives no response and the silence becomes nearly palpable. Shit.

When she convinces her lungs to cooperate with her in order to keep her breathing from becoming ragged, she tries another approach. "Does she know?"

She thinks he nods; small and nearly imperceptible, but a nod nonetheless.

"She does."

So she closes her eyes and continues to shove the pieces of meat she's handed into the bag. There are others like Ryouko and Hinami who depend on them to bring them a meal, after all.

* * *

><p>That night, the words on her notebook become a muddled and incomprehensible mess. Letters mix with spaces and numbers and she finds herself rubbing her eyes over and over again to no avail. No matter how much she squints and sighs and revisits the text, nothing makes sense to her. Everything is strange. Everything is wrong. Everything is making her sick.<p>

She gets up from her desk and serves herself a cup of coffee.

The Doves have come to the 20th Ward.

The Doves are looking for Ryouko.

The Doves could be looking for Hinami, too.

(_Ryouko is going to be killed_,  
>a small and traitorous voice<br>whispers within her mind.)

When she comes to, there are ceramic shards lodged in the palm of her hand and a puddle of warm coffee at her feet.

She decides to go to bed early.

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><p>When she bombs her Classic Literature exam, it's not for a lack of trying.<p>

(When she finds Hinami alone at Anteiku, hands balled into fists and voice shaking with justified concern, _it is_.)


	6. ( forced )

author's note;  
>1011/14 — Tokyo Ghoul:re _and_ season 2 in January. I don't know what I'm feeling right now, but INCREDIBLY HYPED is probably a way to describe it.

In any case, midterms monopolized my free time for a week or so. Here is an extra long chapter in order to compensate for that. If you spot any mistakes, let me know so I can fix them!

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><p>There are no laws that protect the lives of those individuals known as <em>ghouls<em>.

(Or, five events that take place directly after Fueguchi Ryouko's forced disappearance.

And one that's just a little bit further away.)

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><p>( <em>forced<em> )

* * *

><p>i.<p>

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><p>When Touka's feet automatically guide her to Anteiku after school, she finds the blinds drawn and the <em>closed<em> sign carefully placed next to the front door.

Today wasn't a day off. If it was, the manager would have surely mentioned something to her before she left for home yesterday. Yoshimura was old, _sure_, but he was not senile in any sense of the word. The last time Anteiku had closed its doors for the day without any previous notice had been when—

(—_don't think about it_.)

The door is unlocked. Guided by nothing but pure dread, she darts in and runs up the stairs, completely ignoring Yoshimura's presence behind the bar. Yomo's words play over and over within her head and continue to do so when she walks into the room upstairs and finds it full of pale and resigned faces. She feels someone's hand touch her shoulder at the same time she spots Hinami curled up in the seat farthest from the entrance, eyes rimmed with red and body trembling with a multitude of fears and anxieties. When their eyes meet, Touka finds herself rooted to the ground.

"...Where's Ryouko-san?" she asks, not daring to divert her gaze from Hinami's.

"Mother left yesterday," Hinami tells her, voice soft and nearly evanescent. Despite this, every word feels like a harsh and discordant note to Touka's ears. "But... she never came back."

Briefly (or not so briefly), Touka's vision shakes and blurs together. Her knees buckle and it suddenly becomes hard to breathe, almost as if she were suffering from an inexplicable heat-haze. When the hand on her shoulder tightens its grip ever so slightly and drags her back to reality, she becomes keenly aware that the manager had followed her upstairs after she had rushed in. She's irrationally fond of his hand on her shoulder. It's a very nice hand. It keeps her from completely losing it in front of Hinami.

_But _it's not enough to keep her from thinking of unpleasant things. Her imagination does not need much incentive to run amok, and it immediately begins conjuring up vivid images of Ryouko's lifeless body, battered and bruised while those bastards congratulate themselves over another job well done. She forces her lungs to cooperate, stubbornly ignoring the unpleasant knot in her chest. Then, she glances around the room.

Unsurprisingly, Irimi and Koma do a fine job avoiding her gaze. Yomo doesn't even _bother_ to look up, all too content with staring at the floor as if it were more interesting than the conversation currently taking place. Yoshimura must have already spoken to them.

"Why," she begins, "aren't we looking for Ryouko-san? If we look for her now, it might not be too—"

She doesn't get to finish her statement. She doesn't get to say _it might not be_ _too late_. Not when Yoshimura squeezes her shoulder, prompting her to meet his eyes. In them, she finds nothing but pity. It makes her blood boil more than anything else. "Touka-chan," he tells her slowly, as if feeding a small child bite sized pieces of information for their own benefit. "This has been discussed with everyone in this room. Even Hinami-chan understands."

_Even Hinami._ The powerful implications hidden behind those two simple words are not wasted on her.

"...Is that so?" she finds herself asking, eyes narrowing into slits. Even though every single inch of her body is screaming for her to lash out, her tone is as cold as ice. "We're leaving her for dead? Just like that? Don't fuck around. That's—"

"Touka," Yomo interjects, almost echoing Yoshimura's tone. She's already become quite tired of the condescension buried deep within it. "You know better than anyone what happens when a ghoul... doesn't return. Fueguchi-san enticed the Doves to come here and was discovered. Don't waste your time."

She does know. Yomo doesn't have to remind her. Nobody has to, really. She will always remember those sleepless nights spent huddled up in a corner of her old home, holding her younger brother's hand and whispering false reassurances that comforted no one. She does not need to be told something has happened to Ryouko to know it's true. No loving parent, human or ghoul, would leave their child alone like this if they could help it.

But she does not want Hinami to experience the loss of both mother and father the same way she did. She's tired of watching everyone die.

She rips Yoshimura's hand away from her shoulder.

"Tch... To help ghouls—that's Anteiku's purpose, isn't it?" she scoffs while glaring at every adult in the room. "And yet you're going to suck your thumb and let the Doves get away with this? You're all disgusting."

"Touka-chan," Yoshimura responds. His tone is filled with both pity and scorn. "You must understand. We mustn't—"

"No," she cuts him off, taking a step back and towards the door. "I don't understand, and I don't _want_ to understand if it means being a pathetic coward. I'm out of here."

She wishes Hinami wouldn't have to see her like this, but there's no helping that. Someone has to do it. If nobody else will take care of things, then it's up to her to destroy Ryouko's enemies.

She turns her back to the people in this room.

Slamming the door shut behind her, however, does not feel as pleasant as she hoped it would.

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><p>ii.<p>

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><p>Finding out who the CCG has working for them in the 20th Ward isn't easy. There are way too many humans coming in and out of the building, all dressed in immaculate suits and armed to the teeth with a shared hatred for the existence of those known as ghouls—but she somehow manages it. And she honestly comes to respect Yomo a little bit more at the end of it, after the nth time she has to convince herself that simply waltzing into the building with no plan or guarantee would be the worst idea she's had in a while. Examining the wanted posters with a critical eye is risky enough when she takes little precaution to hide her true identity, after all.<p>

Still, it's something to consider for later. _Maybe_.

What matters now, in any case, is that she's supposedly succeeded at her task. Information is a precious thing between ghouls and exchanging it for something equally as precious is no walk in the park. Thankfully, being a highly persuasive person has always been one of her strong points.

(Her fists do all the talking for her. It's something of a gift.)

_There was a commotion near a popular bookstore_, is the first thing she learns.

_It's been a few days since then_, is the second.

_It seems_, comes the third bit of information, _one of those human loving idiots got themselves_—

She didn't need that kind of information.

The source didn't need their head attached to their body, either.

By the fourth and fifth piece of information, there are several pictures stored in her phone and she has two faces to match with the words _ghoul investigator_.

Whether they are the right ones or not is a matter of perspective.

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><p>iii.<p>

* * *

><p>Her mask sits atop her bedside table. It has remained untouched for days upon weeks upon <em>months<em>. That is about to change.

In the back of her closet, there is also one (1) red wig. She now knows what to do with it.

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><p>iv.<p>

* * *

><p>Near the CCG building, there is a board dedicated solely to displaying wanted posters. The ghouls known as <em>Gourmet<em> and _Binge Eater_ are the usual subjects of said posters. But, recently, there's been a new addition.

_Clover_ is what they call her. There is no face nor physical description to accompany the data displayed on her respective poster, but what little information there is is clear enough. _This ghoul_, it says, _is suspected to have the appearance of a child. It may be wearing clothing similar to that displayed in Figure 1.1._

Figure 1.1, in this case, being a simple outfit strikingly similar to one Hinami's parents had bought her almost six months ago. Two months later, the CCG raided her house while she was away with her mother and nobody has seen her wear the outfit since.

The poster goes missing somewhere between 7PM and 10PM.

Security footage only picks up an indistinguishable figure dressed in black.

The middle finger it points towards the camera, on the other hand, is _very_ distinguishable.

* * *

><p>v.<p>

* * *

><p>And just before she swoops in to take the lives of Ryouko's enemies, she finds herself thinking about all sort of nonsensical things.<p>

She thinks about her father and how he strove to protect her from the cruelty of the world. His kindness is what got him killed.

She thinks about Ayato, who is long gone and nothing but a recurrent thought in the back of her mind. She has not heard any other rumors about a young ghoul causing a stir in other wards.

The most illogical thought comes in the form of that human. She had deemed him _Crush Boy_ in an attempt to distance herself from his very existence. It was a botched up effort to disassociate herself from his overly bizarre tendency to stare at her in awe, as if she were someone who could provoke such an emotion. She has no idea why she thinks of him now, however brief and fleeting her thoughts may be.

But she supposes that she's wondering what a human like him would think about all of this. A human who has never faced the hardships of being a ghoul. One who can enjoy a normal meal with friends and who has never experienced the tragedy of losing both parents to those who consider themselves agents of justice.

She wonders if he would think she's doing the right thing.

(_Maybe she's wrong._)

She descends from her spot atop a nameless building.

When she takes the life of the first investigator, she realizes that is what she's fighting for.

As long as she fights, she would not be condemned.

As long as she fights, she would be able to keep her balance on the tightrope.

She would not fall. She would not crash. She would not lose the happiness she's worked so hard to maintain until now.

And she would help Hinami do the same.

* * *

><p>null.<p>

* * *

><p>Even though she knew the basic concept of it, she had never seen what was stored within those suitcases the Doves lugged around.<p>

She wanted to keep it that way. She almost did, too.

(Her arm hurts a lot and she pretends Yoshimura doesn't know what she's _done_—but it could be worse.

It could.

She muffles her strangled screams with a towel between her teeth and patches herself up as she's done several times before. She is alone. If she's killed, it will be her responsibility.

There is no one around to assure her they would be sad if she died.)


	7. ( turn back time )

10/16/14 — As always, thank you all your your kudos/favorites/follows/bookmarks/reviews/etc.! Don't be afraid to point out what you think about this chapter as well, especially if it has to do with a mistake you spot... and doubly so if it's about something you like. Heaven knows I need to find myself a beta reader.

ALSO, I'll admit I was very tempted to stick the juicy bits into this chapter. _So tempted._ You'll see what I mean once you get to the last line of this chapter. ;)

* * *

><p>(But, in all honesty,<br>a love story just isn't that much of a love story  
>without its cliches.<p>

So let us turn back time for exposition's sake.)

* * *

><p>( <em>turn back time<em> )

* * *

><p>The men below her are having a pleasant conversation.<p>

She does not care to understand nor listen to what they are saying.

What she _does_ care for is the sickening squelch the younger investigator's body makes as it comes apart oh so very easily, skin and bone parting and rushing to meet the ground in less than two seconds. His companion fails to notice what has happened until there is a pool of blood at his feet. By then, her body is already in motion. She is ready to eradicate Ryouko's enemies from the face of the Earth. She is righting a wrong.

This does not happen.

She fails to notice the third investigator. Her sources had not mentioned him during her investigation.

Skidding across the pavement and nearly losing her balance in the process, she quickly regains her momentum in order to continue with her assault. Determining the third investigator to be the biggest threat, she rushes to meet him. A kick, a jump and a punch—and her body collides with his, leaving a gash on the right side of his face. Her body is a flurry of movements and he is no match for her. Not like this. Not when he is so obviously unarmed.

An unarmed human is no match for a ghoul's strength.

An armed human, however, is a completely different story.

She's face down on the ground, right arm throbbing in pain and head reeling by the time she's realized what has happened. A _fourth_ investigator has shown up, adequately armed and ready to fight against a ghoul of her caliber.

He's scolding his co-workers. That much she can tell. However, his exact words are lost in a haze of pain and adrenaline. She needs to get up. She needs to fight. She didn't come all this way in order to die. Not like this. Not without getting rid of Ryouko's enemies. That would be too (_lonely_) pathetic.

She manages to pull herself off the ground a second before that _thing_ can crush her into itty-bitty pieces.

"Oh!" the fourth investigator exclaims, dragging his weapon behind him. The look of absolute delight that crosses his face is not lost on her. "How spectacular. It's been a long time since I've met someone who can dodge this!"

_This_ being that thing that resembles the unholy offspring of a whip and a scorpion's tail. She does not know what to make of it, but she does not have to be a genius in order to figure out it's what the Doves carry within their briefcases. As if begging for an audience, the fourth investigator continues to ramble on, tone laced with glee and excitement over finding what he may or may not consider an ant to crush underneath his boot. Her stomach churns in disgust and she's all too ready to tune him out in order to think of a way to beat the hell out of him, but her train of thought is cut short by his following words.

"Ah. Come to think of it... that ghoul wife I killed some days ago was pretty weak, wasn't she? She didn't put up a good fight," he says, a lopsided grin on his face as he reaches into the inside of his coat. A second later, he takes out a flat and rectangular object and tosses it her way. "And all she did was try to protect _this_. It was pretty hilarious!"

At her feet, stained with blood and covered in filth, laid the cover of The Black Goat's Egg.

So much for _thinking_ about how to beat the hell out of him.

Driven by nothing but pure rage, she ignores how outmatched she is and charges at the bastard in front of her. Punches are thrown and her kagune burns from the intensity of her actions, but no matter what she does, nothing seems to hit him. The only thing she's doing is tiring herself out—and she's sure he knows it judging by the smirk on his face and the much-too-technical explanation he's giving her. She does not give a damn about the way her kagune works. She is not capable of giving a single _fuck _about the shit this decrypt old man was spewing. She does not care about anything but smashing her fist into his face and making his skull concave.

But that's not to be. Not when she's so out of focus, every inch of her body humming with adrenaline that's soon to sputter out. She doesn't even get to land a single hit before he slams that weapon against her side, knocking her down and effectively forcing her to use the last bit of her energy in an attempt to keep him from snapping her in two.

She wheezes.

The fucker laughs.

"What? It's already over?" he asks, a grin plastered on his face and his tone light. Her suffering must be highly entertaining for him. "I guess I shouldn't expect much from trash like you. You ghouls can only put up so much of a fight before you're inevitably _erased_. "

Touka's anger resurfaces, boiling beneath her skin and threatening to seep out through her pores. She grits her teeth, hoisting herself to her feet with a shaky and suffering breath. The investigator readies his weapon, undoubtedly preparing to strike her down once and for all.

She's not very eager to give him that chance.

And so, she escapes with her jaw clenched and a metaphorical tail between her legs. She's had better days, that's for sure.

.

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She feels very much like a coward.

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But she is not ready to die.

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(Not yet, anyway.  
><em>Not before she can find<em>—)

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(It shouldn't matter to her anymore. The past should stay in the past.)

* * *

><p>Between her arm and her pride, she isn't sure what's more critically wounded.<p>

But she can't say she expected to get away unscathed. She knew the consequences of openly challenging the Doves very well. Any ghoul with half a brain knows. She is not nearly young and reckless enough to think her actions have no repercussions. She supposes the quiet but scathing look of disapproval Yoshimura keeps giving her forms part of those repercussions.

Catching a glimpse of Hinami in the room upstairs, huddled up under a thick blanket and reading a book by an author called Takatsuki Sen may be another one of those repercussions. It's not a coincidence, she thinks, that the cover that was tossed her way the other night carried the same name below the title. Ryouko must have gone out to buy Hinami a new book that day, and then—she never came back.

It was a gift she would never be able to deliver now. It makes Touka almost regret not picking the cover up from the ground, but Hinami probably wouldn't appreciate seeing her mother's last gift to her torn and sullied.

She closes her eyes and forces herself to stop thinking about it before her rage can turn to despair and despair can turn to nausea.

* * *

><p>Try as she might to stop thinking about it, however, her attempts end up being for naught. Insomnia gets a hold of her during the wee hours of the morning and her thoughts become consumed by feelings of guilt. She should have done something to help Ryouko. She should have told her to get out of the 20th Ward the moment she was told why the Doves were here. Even she could have done that much before things went downhill like this.<p>

Taking care of a mess that's already been made is never pleasant. Much less so, when the mess involves the death of someone who used to be a dear friend.

(And also someone she looked up to in a certain sense. But, of course, she would never admit to this. It was too embarrassing.)

Instead of recklessly endangering her life again, she somehow ends up at a local bookstore.

Hinami would want to read that novel if it was something Ryouko picked out for her.

Ignoring the incessant throbbing of her still healing right arm, she carefully browses the shelves one by one Neatly stacked and ordered before her are rows and rows of thick novels, neatly wrapped up in protective plastic and decorated with incomprehensible covers and even _more_ incomprehensible titles. She's not sure if the author's family name was Akatsuki or Takatsuki and, honestly, she's beginning to regret coming here without having made sure she remembered the details correctly. While the heat of the moment made it impossible for her to remember everything that happened that night, she wasn't entirely sure she could trust herself to remember the title accurately.

She was having trouble enough with the author's name, after all.

Still, she wasn't quite ready to leave the store without buying _something _for Hinami. Though it certainly wouldn't do much to help her sleeping habits as of late, having a new book would probably help ease her mind. If only a little. It's the least Touka could do, after failing to take down the Doves that killed her mother.

Sighing in an attempt to get rid of the heaviness within her chest, she continues to browse the shelves. This would be a lot more easier if she knew the genre of the book she was looking for, or maybe—

(Someone bumps into her right arm, and  
><em>it hurts more than she thought was possible.<em>)

She's on the ground before she can get a hold of herself, left hand clutching her injured arm and jaw clenched in an attempt to stifle a yelp. It works to a certain extent, but it does little to keep the person that bumped into her from fretting, their worried hands hovering inches from her shoulders as they decide to join her on the ground.

"A-Ah! I'm sorry! I..." the person begins, tone laced with hysteria before they trail off just as quickly as they begun. In the back of her mind, the voice strikes Touka as somewhat familiar. "...Kirishima-san?"

She looks up at that exact moment.

Quite suddenly, she finds herself staring at Crush Boy's worried face.


	8. ( chivalry )

author's note;  
>0111/14 — I have formed a nasty habit and it is called splitting chapters in half. If I ended things where I planned to actually end them... we would only be on chapter 5. Oh, golly.

That said, happy November 1st! As always, feel free to point out any mistakes you pick up as well as any particular lines you're fond of. Both make my day a little brighter.

* * *

><p>"...Kirishima-san?" he asks, hands hovering inches away from her shoulders and brows knit in concern. His eyes, she thinks, are a tad too wide for his face. Or maybe it's just the fact he looks a little bit like a deer caught in headlights, frozen for a handful of seconds before the surprise wears out and reality sinks in. "Wait — No, more importantly... I must have knocked you down. Are you alright?"<p>

For a moment, the only thing she wants to do is laugh. Her voice is caught in her throat and the absurdity of the situation makes reality feel less like fact and more like fiction. He didn't knock her down. The thought of a ghoul being knocked down by a flabby human being is too mortifying to even consider. All he did was _gently_ bump into her right arm, his elbow grazing the wound that decrepit old asshole had given her. The pain resulting from said _gentle _bump, on the other hand, had been nothing short of excruciating.

But—oh. Crush Boy is waiting for a response.

She coaxes her voice out of her throat and forgets about the warmth spreading across the palm of her left hand.

"Ah... I'm fine," she lies through her teeth. She wants to snap at him for asking such an obvious question (because, _really_), but she holds her tongue. He's just a customer. Practically a stranger. Snapping at him would serve no purpose. Though it could make her feel better for a while, it would only cause her trouble in the long run.

Still, Crush Boy seems to mull over her answer far longer than is strictly necessary. Just when she thinks his brain must have disintegrated into a puddle of goo, he gives her a weak chuckle and retracts his hands. "Well... If you say so, Kirishima-san," he responds, brows still knit together and lips set into an uneasy smile. She suspects he does not believe her at all. "Let me help you up."

He lifts himself from the ground as he says this, wiping both of his hands on his pants and then holding them out to her. She stares at them for a moment, examines her options, and then clicks her tongue. "...I can stand up on my own."

His chivalry is wasted on her. She refuses to involve herself with more humans than is strictly necessary. Maintaining the lifestyle of a normal high school student is hard enough without any added concerns. She slowly stands up and focuses on the speckles and pebbles on her knees instead of the look on his face. Careful not to upset her wound any further, she tries to brush the dirt off her legs with her hands.

She hears him suck in a breath at the same time she notices she's smearing blood on her left knee.

* * *

><p>( <em>chivalry<em> )

* * *

><p>She had wanted to avoid causing a commotion.<p>

Alas, brushing past him and rushing out of the store without saying a word is _exactly_ the sort of thing that would cause a commotion.

(She's not impulsive. She really isn't.

But her reactions materialize faster than her thoughts.)

She weaves through the crowd, slipping her hands into the pockets of her jacket and carefully avoiding brushing against anything or any_one_ that would further irritate her wound. The color of her jacket is dark enough to mask the blood seeping through the bandages, but not nearly dark enough to conceal the ever growing wet spot on her sleeve. Thought she doubts anyone would flag her down at this busy hour in order to ask how that spot had gotten there, she needs to hurry home. She needs to change her bandages and pretend this never happened. Maybe (just a hopeful maybe), she managed to spook Crush Boy away with that scene she caused back there. That would be nice. It would be one less thing to worry about. She could deal with losing a regular at the coffee shop.

Now—if only that regular could deal with losing _her_.

(He's chasing after her, she realizes.)

"Hold on!" he shouts, sounding more out of breath than anyone she's ever heard before. Looks like she was right about him being small and weak. "Kirishima-san!"

Of course, she has no intention of waiting for him. Or anyone else for that matter. Her arm is throbbing and sprinting at a human's pace is way too tedious, but she needs to keep going. He's only a couple of paces away from her. With any luck, he wouldn't catch up to her. With any luck, he—

_He—_

He catches up to her.

It's embarrassingly cliché.

Grabbing her uninjured arm and holding onto it with a surprisingly strong grip, Touka is forced to stop as she hears him pant and wheeze behind her. She refuses to turn around and look at him. She also refuses to consider why he didn't go for her injured arm, seeing as how it was closer to him than the one he reached for.

"H— Hold on," he repeats with a wheeze. His sweaty palm radiates enough heat to seep through her clothes and into her skin despite the early winter chill surrounding them. "I... I'm sorry. I was surprised. H-Honestly, I didn't mean to scare you."

Scare her. _Him_. He thought he scared her. She isn't sure if she should feel insulted or amused by the concept.

So she chooses not to respond.

And when he realizes she's not going to run away if he lets her go, he drops her arm and coughs. He might have covered his mouth with the sleeve of his sweater; it sounds somewhat muffled. "Kirishima-san," he says, now having regained his ability to speak without wheezing through every other word. There's a degree of decisiveness in his voice, but she cannot figure what he's decided on. "I know you must have already noticed this, but... you're bleeding."

"_So_?" she hears herself say, tone laced with unnecessary vitriol.

Crush Boy must have been a caught off guard by this, because he hesitates for a moment or two before continuing. It's his fault for stating the obvious, anyway. "Ah... um... This isn't my business, and you probably think I'm being nosy," he begins, "But you need to have that treated. If you're scared of going alone, then I could accompany you to the hos—"

She cuts him off before he can even finish that ridiculous statement, turning on her heel and letting him stare at her blood stained clothing. He could keep gawking for all she cared.

"—To the hospital? Is that what you were going to say?" she spits, already fed up with his attitude. For someone who's name she could not bring herself to use, his existence was rapidly becoming a thorn on her side. "You already said it. It's none of your damn business, so stop trying to be my friend."

His eyes widen ever so slightly, lips pressed together as her words sink in. Then, after a handful of seconds in which she thinks she's finally scared him off, he shakes his head at her. "Even so... I can't just leave you like this. Not when you're injured," he says, voice soft and tone gentle. He's pleading with her. "It wouldn't be right. Please, let me help you."

She inhales, the chilly air stinging the tip of her nose and burning her lungs. She holds her breath as she stares at him. She becomes convinced he is trying to pull her leg. He can't mean that. He barely knows her.

When she exhales, she realizes a person this foolish is real.

"...Are you trying to be the moral person right now?" she quietly responds. She can feel the fight leaving her bones, dripping down her skin and forming a hopeless puddle at their feet. "It's irritating."

The look on Crush Boy's face softens. She is not fond of it. Not at all.

"That's not it," he tells her. "But if you won't go to the hospital, will you let me treat your wound?"

_No_, her mind supplies, vehemently.

"If I say yes, will you fuck off?" her mouth asks, the traitorous thing.

"Yes," he responds.

* * *

><p>And that is how she ends up in a boy's apartment at 4:58PM on a weekday.<p> 


	9. ( fumble )

author's note;  
><span>10/17/14 — Whoops! It's been a while since the last update. I blame college for keeping me horrendously busy. :(

Special thanks to insomniacClarinetist for being such a fabulous beta.

* * *

><p>Despite not being entirely sure of what, exactly, to expect, her arrival at Crush Boy's apartment still feels somewhat anti-climatic.<p>

They walk together for thirty minutes until reaching a nondescript apartment complex. Once there, he leads her past one sign boasting affordable rent for college students, guides her up two sets of stairs and signals her to stop at the third floor. She takes one look at the rickety front door, watches him fumble with his keys until he finds the right one, and comes to the conclusion that, _yes_, this is a tremendously bad idea.

* * *

><p>( <em>fumble<em> )

* * *

><p>Surprisingly, she finds the inside of his apartment to be slightly less unfortunate looking than the outside.<p>

Crush Boy enters before her, turning on the lights and holding the door open for her. They remove their shoes at the genkan before stepping into the bedroom-cum-living room-cum-kitchen, where she proceeds to give her surroundings a cursory glance. Her own living arrangements are decidedly bigger (mostly due to the manager's charitable nature; partly due to the fact it was meant to house _two_), but—it's not an entirely unpleasant place. It's the type of place where she could picture someone like Crush Boy living.

The wooden floorboards creak ever-so-slightly as she follows him. His shoulders seem suddenly tense and the furniture is a little sparse, but she manages to keep her mind away from the elephant in the room as they come to a stop near a slightly rusting refrigerator. "Um... Kirishima-san," Crush Boy says, breaking the silence between them but not quite facing her. "You can sit anywhere you like. There are some magazines on the table and—and I'll go search for the first aid kit in the bathroom."

Vaguely, she wonders why a single college student would even _need_ a first aid kit. That thought only lasts up to three seconds before it's unceremoniously replaced by the realization she has been stubbornly avoiding up until now; Crush Boy lives alone. She's currently standing in the apartment of a single, young human male. She followed him home out of her own volition.

She suddenly feels out of place, but not in the same way she does when she visits Yoriko's house.

She clears her throat and pulls the zipper of her rabbit themed jacket up even further. "I'll be here."

Regaining _some_ of the bravado he had back near the bookstore, Crush Boy tilts his head towards her and gives her a smile full of shattered nerves. Touka does not return the gesture.

She waits until he's left the room to let out a breath she had been holding. _This_, no matter how she looks at it, is a bad idea. Not running away from him when he let go of her arm back there was a big enough mistake as it is. Following him home and actually entering his apartment is just asking for something terrible to happen. Even if he seems to be weak and scrawny, there's no way for her to know what goes through his head. She's had enough encounters with unsavory individuals to know that ghouls aren't the only dangerous beings out there.

In the worst-case scenario, there will be a body to dispose of.

In the best-case scenario—something will change. But she isn't sure of what it is.

She allows herself to plop down on the edge of his bed after a long moment of hesitation. From there, she examines the scratched up table two feet before her. There is a plastic soda cap shoved under one of the legs and a multitude of magazines and fliers littered across it. She figures, absentmindedly, that it must be pretty old judging from how it wobbles when she prods it with the tip of her shoe.

Leaning forward, she sorts through the mess before her. There are some academic magazines, some shopping catalogs and some take-out fliers—but nothing out of the ordinary. It's more or less on par with what you'd expect from your average human, so she prepares to stop rifling through his belongings and lean back into the lumpy comfort the mattress offers her.

She would have totally done it, too, if not for catching a glimpse of a CCG brochure buried under the pile of magazines and fliers.

Crush Boy returns from the depths of his bathroom before she can properly react.

"Sorry for making you wait," he says, carrying a small plastic box while remaining completely oblivious to her plight. "I thought I placed it in the cabinet, but—"

He stops short as soon as he meets her eyes.

Belatedly, she notices she must look rather pale.

"Are… Are you alright?" he asks, before hesitantly closing the distance between them and setting the plastic box on the tablet. "You're not feeling dizzy, are you?"

_Dizzy_ is one way to describe it. _Completely and utterly ill_ is another, but not one she can be honest about. Covering her mouth with her left hand, she tries to avoid looking at the brochure on the table. Knowing it was there was enough to make her want to bolt out of here as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, running away while he's in the room isn't the most conspicuous of options. "I'm..." she begins, voice unusually quiet. "I'm feeling a little light-headed, actually."

Crush Boy pauses. She does not dare look at his face, out of some irrational fear he'll know what she saw and why it made her so uneasy.

"I'll get you a glass of water," he responds. "Do you want something to eat? It might be for the best if you lay down, too..."

She shakes her head. Lying down is the last thing she needs to do with _that_ in front of her. "No, I'm okay. You don't have to," she says. Then, she thinks better of it. "... I'll have a cup of coffee, though. Black. It'll—help me feel better."

It's a half-truth, created with the purpose of distracting him. She meets his eyes after the words have left her mouth and finds that he nods in compliance.

She buries the brochure under a magazine once he's turned his back to her.

* * *

><p>"Are you feeling better?" Crush Boy asks her once she's guzzled down half of the cup he prepared for her, sitting on the floor out of a refusal to sit next to her on the bed. "Err... It's not as good as Anteiku's, but it was the only brand I had."<p>

She exhales through her nose. It's the worst coffee she's tasted in years. It also bought her enough time to collect herself. "It's fine. You shouldn't worry too much about it."

"Really?" he says, eyes widening slightly and voice tinged with surprise. "You work at a cafe, so you should know more about coffee than I do. Is it really fine?"

"I already told you, it's _fine_," she insists before taking one last sip out of her cup. "If you keep questioning it, it'll get annoying. So shut up and accept a compliment when you get it."

She thinks the look on his face makes it seem a little like he wishes he could take back the last fifteen seconds of his life.

Regardless, she shoves the now empty cup into his hand before he can think of a way to continue with this line of conversation. The CCG brochure is out of sight, but in no way out of mind, and she honestly wants to get out of this place as soon as possible.

"You said you wanted to treat my wound," she tells him. "Well? Get on with it. Unless you plan to keep me here all day."

He sputters, something unintelligible coming out of his mouth, before he sets the cup on the table right next to the plastic box. The table wobbles as he gets on his knees, places a hand on it and opens the box. She focuses on everything but the possibility of being inside a future CCG recruit's home. It's always, always, _always_ the last ones you'd expect that turn around and stab you in the back, after all.

"I'll… um... need to see your arm, Kirishima-san," he says, brandishing a roll of bandages and what seems to be a disinfectant towelette.

She stares at him for a moment, examines his trembling hands and much too long fingernails, and decides the best thing she could do for now was play along. If she could survive this, he would never bother her again. That was the deal. She plans to hold him up to it.

Removing her jacket first, she watches his face for any type of reaction. He seems awestruck, for the most part. His expression is a little like the one he had the first time she saw him, with his lips slightly parted and his eyes fixed on her like she was some type of rarity. Awe, however, gets quickly replaced by horror once she rolls up the sleeve of her shirt to reveal the blood speckled bandages around her upper arm. While the color has turned mostly brown by now, there was no denying what was underneath.

Carefully, the bandages are removed from her arm, fresh blood and plasma seeping out as some of the dried blood and scabs are yanked out in the process. The wound is nowhere near as bad as it was the night she got it—but it still needs more time. She would have to give it another day or two before it sealed up completely. Then, a little longer for the bruises to go away.

She's going to kill that investigator the next time she sees him.

"W-What..." Crush Boy begins, mouth more or less uncooperative due to a mixture of what she supposes could be shock and nausea. This is what he gets for being so nosy. "What happened?"

She licks her lips. Stares at the front door all the way across the room. "I had an accident."

"An _accident_?" he asks, sounding absolutely flabbergasted. She supposes he must not be accustomed to seeing the result of having a chunk of your arm ripped off by a Dove. "What kind of accident?"

"Just an accident," she hisses through her teeth. "Do you have to question everything you're told? Didn't I tell you it would get annoying?"

She hopes her refusal to provide a straight answer is more off-putting than it is suspicious.

But Crush Boy simply presses his lips into a fine line, dabbing away at the dried blood on her wound with the disinfectant towelette. She's thankful (so, so very thankful) that it no longer looks like someone haphazardly sawed off a piece of her upper arm. "Okay, okay... I get it," he responds. "It was an accident."

"Yeah," she tells him. "An accident."

One she had walked right into, really.

They fall into silence. She allows him to continue treating her arm, ignoring the discomfort of having someone touch the still tender patch of skin. She reminds herself for the nth time that this is one of the worst ideas she's had to date, and no matter how delicious he smells from this close up, they—

"Kirishima-san," Crush Boy says, interrupting her line of thought before she can even realize what had just crossed her mind. "I was wondering—when you left the bookstore, it looked like you hadn't bought anything."

Right. The bookstore. The one she had left in a hurry without purchasing what she had come for. Hinami's gift would have to wait a little while longer; she can only hope it's not _too_ long.

"Yeah," she huffs, leveling him a stare. "Because you walked into me, dumbass."

He blinks, almost as if he hadn't been expecting the insult. Then, he gives her a nervous chuckle as he sets the used towelette aside and reaches for a pair of scissors to cut the bandages with. "Were you looking for something in particular...?"

She _was_ looking for something in particular. She had _also_ felt hopelessly lost in the store, surrounded by shelves full of incomprehensible books she felt no desire to look at. There is no love lost between her and literature.

The same cannot be said of Crush Boy, judging by the bookshelves right next to the bed.

"The Black Goat's... Egg," she hesitantly replies. And that sounds about right, if she ignores the logistic nightmare of a goat having an egg. A moment after the title has left her mouth, though, she finds herself shaking her head and wanting to take the words back. "No, actually, just—"

She's cut off.

"—N-No way...!" he exclaims, wrapping the fresh bandages around her arm more tightly than is strictly necessary. She doesn't know what to make of his reaction. "You're a fan of Takatsuki Sen's work?!"

"... Sure," she lies. It's better than admitting the truth, just in case. "You know of him?"

"Her," he's quick to correct, before carrying on without missing a beat. "She's my favorite novelist! I... um... I didn't know you were a fan of mystery novels, too, Kirishima-san."

Neither did she.

These are the things she will put up with for Hinami's sake.

"Ah... yeah," she says, watching him finish wrapping her wound. He's babbling, with vigor she didn't know he was capable of, and she's only listening halfway. She could actually care less about this Takatsuki Sen person and how young she was when she began her career as a novelist, but Crush Boy seems to care an awful lot. A little _too_ much, if you ask her.

But nobody's asking.

"Are you done?" she asks, cutting him off as he begins to explain the plot of The Black Goat's Egg. As interesting as it is to learn about Hinami's taste in novels, she has more pressing matters to attend to. Namely—getting out of here.

"Oh... Yeah," he responds, eyes darting back and forth between her face and his work. He must have not expected being cut off so suddenly. "It looks like I am."

Good.

"Then... we're done here," she says, pulling the sleeve of her shirt down. She makes a point of avoiding his gaze as she reaches for her jacket. Cutting things off abruptly is the only way to go. If she stays here any longer, (_she_) he might get attached.

She feels him stand up as she slips her jacket on. She's letting him down easily. This is what they agreed on. It's for his own good.

"Wait," he begins. She doesn't want to hear it. She doesn't want to think about how gullible he is and the CCG brochure on his table.

"You said you'd fuck off," she tells him. "Didn't you? We're done here."

She ignores the look on Kaneki's (_Crush Boy's_) face as she leaves.

If he knows what's good for him, he'll give up on this.

* * *

><p>(He doesn't.)<p>

* * *

><p>"Here," Irimi says during her next shift, casually holding a thick and rectangular package out to her. Touka gingerly takes it in her hand, brows knit in confusion as she searches the wrapping for some kind of note but finds none.<p>

Suspicious.

"What is it?" she asks, trying to remove one of the pieces of tape holding the thing together with her fingernail. There is another question hidden behind her words. Mostly, the question of _who_ left it here.

But her co-worker simply shakes her head at her, shrugging her shoulders as she returns to her duty of polishing a ceramic cup. "I don't know. A human customer dropped it off," she says. There is a glint in her eyes. "Maybe you have an admirer, Touka."

The paper wrapping comes off with a satisfying _rip_ as she gives up on carefully removing the tape and gives in to the urge to destroy the wrapping. Beneath, she finds The Black Goat's Egg staring back at her.

"No," she breathes, "I don't."

That idiot.


End file.
